Reasons to Keep Going
by sleapyGazelle
Summary: Lance and Shiro are escaped laborers-turned-bounty hunters trying to earn safe passage back home. Things take an interesting turn when they acquire a particularly lucrative bounty: the Galra crown prince. Written for Potential Zine. Cover art by co-creator @PitchGold (Tumblr)


**[Shiro & Lance]**

Shiro and Lance made their way out of the bar, talking flaws and merits of upping their prices for their newest, clearly loaded client. The pair of bounty hunters had just made it out the front door when a cloud of cigarette smoke burned their eyes. Lance rounded on the rude stranger, about to give him a piece of his mind. But the moment he made eye-contact, Lance's aggression froze in place, replaced by a slacked jaw. He gazed, wide-eyed, into sharp violet eyes just a shade darker than the hue of the stranger's skin. He was Galra, the race of aliens who'd conquered more than half the known universe. But damn if he didn't pull off the look. The offending cigarette dangled from his lips for a moment, before the stranger took it between his fingers to speak,

"You the Paladins?" He addressed Shiro gruffly, looking past Lance entirely.

Being so completely ignored made Lance realize he'd been staring; a blush bloomed across his cheeks. He looked at Shiro, the ball now in his court.

Shiro nodded a cautious response to the man's question. Wanted criminals, he and Lance generally avoided Galra when they could. But this stranger looked quite the opposite of an authority figure. And he'd used their street name.

He tossed the half-spent cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot. "I've got a job for you."

"We're listening," Shiro replied, voice neutral.

"Not here." The Galra led them into one of the other, more boisterous bars.

At a table there, Lance asked, "You got a name?"

"Call me Red."

Lance tuned him out after, "I think someone's following me." The Paladins didn't deal in paranoia. Then the Galra named a price, and Lance stopped admiring lavender skin for a moment in favor of wondering if paranoia could be their newest area of expertise.

* * *

 **[Shiro]**

"Your mission is simple, Paladins," said a towering, masked Galra named Kolivan. "Ensure the demise of Prince Keith."

Lance and Shiro were seated across from the space ninja in a booth at the back of a dingy-looking diner. Kolivan was part of some secret rebel organization whose name he refused to divulge. Apparently hired assassins weren't high-enough profile to invite to the secret base, hence the diner.

"Why us?" questioned Shiro. "How did you even hear of us? We're not that well-known."

"That's one of the main reasons," explained Kolivan. "You wouldn't be recognized. But you've been wronged by Zarkon's empire; you'd be sympathetic to our cause. You've been on our radar for a while."

"We are sympathetic only to our own cause," Lance proclaimed, "which is making GAC. If you can pay what you've promised, we're your friends. If not, you're wasting both our time."

Shiro fixed the Galra with an impassive stare to back up Lance's words.

Kolivan slid an inconspicuous yellow envelope across the table. Shiro pushed it toward Lance without diverting his gaze. Lance took his time opening it, thumbing through the inside. He pulled out a microchip, holding it up discreetly for Shiro's benefit, and raised an eyebrow at their client. Kolivan merely nodded. Lance took out his phone and inserted the chip.

There was a sharp intake of breath before a stretch of tense silence. Shiro glanced over at Lance; he was staring dumbly at his phone. Shiro was just about to nudge his foot to bring him back when Lance seemed to reach a decision. He glanced up and nodded almost imperceptibly, without quite meeting Shiro's eyes.

Shiro turned to Kolivan. "You'll hear from us when the job is done."

"You'll have the rest of your payment then," Kolivan promised. "But if you fail, you won't be around to try again."

"Noted, but that won't be necessary," Shiro assured, while Lance stowed the envelope in his coat's inner pocket.

When they were on their way home, Lance patted his coat pocket. "Guess how much is in the envelope."

"Just try to keep your head on straight." But Shiro couldn't hide the twinkle in his eye.

* * *

 **[Lance]**

"We are not saying yes to the quiznakking _prince_." Shiro was adamant. "Red—the _prince_ —wants us to be his bodyguards and catch whoever's been stalking him. Meanwhile we just got hired by his stalkers to _take him out_. Do you not see a problem with this?" Shiro was as close to yelling as Lance had ever heard him.

At least Shiro and Lance hadn't given the prince an answer yet; they had still been contemplating whether to trust a Galra. But Lance's brain was running circles. All he knew for sure was that he didn't want to refuse either party. Safe passage back into Galra-controlled space wasn't possible without some serious cash.

Lance, was sat on their couch, legs crossed. Turning back to face Shiro, who was pacing, he held his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture. "All I'm saying is, let's think about it."

Shiro did not look convinced. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"We can play them both," Lance insisted. "Double cross them."

"It's an unnecessary risk. Just because you want to have a little fun, we can't—"

"You're seeing the risk," Lance interrupted, "but _I'm_ seeing two stinking-rich clients both coveting our services."

"You know it's not that simple."

"We don't have to make it more complicated than it is."

"Lance—"

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH, SHIRO!" he yelled, surprising both himself and Shiro. "Enough of saving up GAC by GAC. We're _criminals_ already, or do you still deny that?" It was a low blow to Shiro's need to maintain a shred of morality; but Lance _needed_ to see his family again. He was starting to forget what his mom's hugs felt like.

"You can tell yourself that I'm the only one who cares about how far we go," said Shiro, voice low and oddly grounding. "You can throw that in my face all you want. But the truth is, you're just as scared as I am."

Shiro was getting uncomfortably close to a truth Lance refused to confront. "I'm not sca—"

"You know what I mean." Shiro softened slightly. "If we suddenly had to take a life, we both know which of us would hesitate more. And no," he added, before Lance could object, "I'm not saying you're weak. I'm saying you're underestimating how much good is left in you."

Lance sighed, dropping his head into his hands and running them through his hair. "It's just… what'll be the point of finally making it home only to find our families have moved on?" He left the other possibility unvoiced, that their families wouldn't even be around anymore.

Shiro stepped up to rest a heavy hand on Lance's shoulder. "Moody, don't—"

"Chief." Lance lifted his head with a deep breath. "I'm asking you to trust me." He twisted to face Shiro again. "We can do this. We just have to trick them long enough to get paid. Then we'll have what we need, and we disappear. We can't afford to miss this. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," he smiled weakly.

Shiro backed away a step, mouth pressed into a thin line. He took a breath and uttered a single word, "Fine," before turning and leaving the room.

* * *

 **[Keith]**

"So this is it," Lance piped up from behind Keith, who was piloting a private ship almost as small as a pod. "We just tag along on your travels across galaxies while you discover yourself?"

Keith side-eyed Lance but didn't dignify him with a response.

Lance pressed on."Who is it we're protecting you from, anyway?"

This time, Keith took the bait. "I don't really know. But they're trying to kill me."

"Sounds like a whole lotta paranoia to me," Lance scoffed.

Shiro chimed in from beside Lance. "You need to give us more to go on than that."

Keith scowled."Neither of you seemed to have any problems with the job when I paid your advance."

"How _are_ you so loaded, anyway?" Lance demanded. "Are you royalty or something?"

Keith blinked,eyes widening for a second before he regained his composure. There was something (teasing?) in Lance's voice that he couldn't quite make out. Keith wondered if the Paladins somehow _knew_ , before he quickly dismissed the thought. There were no recent pictures of him in the media—his father had made sure of that. And besides, it didn't matter; he had hired them, and they'd said themselves that money was their only concern.

Amid these thoughts, Keith pulled up to his destination: a port city in the Rhybet system. "Just watch my back and catch my stalkers," he grumbled, a belated reply to Lance's joke of a question.

"You know we're bounty hunters, not bodyguards," Lance snapped.

"You're mercenaries for hire," Keith reminded him, getting up from the pilot's seat. "You know how to handle threats. And I'm paying hourly for your services. So act like it.""

With a sneer, Lance advanced toward Keith, cornering him in the already cramped space. "You may have contracted our services, _your highness,_ but you don't own us. We work on our own terms."

Keith crossed his arms. "Then stop talking so much and do your job!"

"You stop telling me what to do."

"Moody—" Keith began, but he didn't get very far.

"Woah, _Red_ , you don't get to call me that. That name is for partners. And since you've just _hired us_ …"

Keith wondered briefly what had inspired such venom before Shiro shoved past them to exit the ship, bumping Lance's shoulder purposely with his own as he went.

Lance stepped back, seemingly refocused. He gave Keith a final glare before turning to follow Shiro off the ship.

* * *

 **[Shiro]**

They made their way into the traders' market, sticking close together in the thick crowd.

Keith jolted to a stop. Shiro bumped into him hard before realizing that the stiff hand he'd just jostled was holding a knife against Keith's side.

"No smart moves," a harsh voice whispered urgently.

The three of them stilled. Shiro felt Lance's breath fan against his neck.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Shiro asked calmly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the masked figure press the knife harder against Keith's side.

"Just walk," the voice responded.

"I thought you told me not to move," Keith muttered, but complied nonetheless.

Shiro's eyes darted across their surroundings as he and Lance dutifully followed in Keith's steps. But he saw no way to fight this person without making a scene and causing collateral damage.

They were steered into an alley between some abandoned storefronts. The moment they were clear of observers, the three of them rounded on the stranger; but a blaster was already drawn and aimed steadily at Keith's chest.

For a tense moment, the only movement was the heaving of chests. Then the masked figure spoke, voice muffled. "Word is there's a hefty bounty on your head."

Shiro immediately tensed, discreetly meeting Lance's gaze out of the corner of his eye. _How do other people know about this?_

"That's not an open bounty!" asserted Lance, aggression palpable in his voice even as the raised gun kept him still.

"Too bad," she snarled. "I'm claiming it."

"I don't think so," Shiro announced, crouching to pull a gun from his ankle holster as Lance stepped in front of Keith, shielding him.

Keith pulled a knife from his belt and threw it at their attacker's outstretched hand. She dodged and shot at Shiro, but he was ready. He ducked and rolled away from his companions, drawing her laser fire, only to block it with his prosthetic arm and shoot back.

Lance reached under his shirt and pulled out a small pistol from his waistband. He took precise aim, and pulled the trigger.

The bounty hunter's knee gave way. She stumbled and fell with a grunt. Rage etched across her features, she swiveled around on her good knee, raised her blaster, and let loose, her aim erratic.

She clipped Lance in the arm before Keith wove through her shots to tackle her. He twisted her arm until she dropped her gun; then he pinned her hands behind her back. They struggled—evenly matched despite the wound in her knee—until Shiro picked up her discarded gun and slammed the butt on her temple. She fell limp in Keith's arms.

Keith set her down against the wall of the alley, checking that she was still breathing before getting up. "We better book it before she wakes up," he said, tearing his eyes away from the unconscious form. He dragged his gaze up Lance's body. "You're bleeding; you need to take care of it. And I'm not done with the market." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'll take Lance to a medic's stall in the market," Shiro suggested. "You pick up what you need in the meantime."

Keith nodded. "We'll meet up by that big clock we passed in the square."

"We really shouldn't be splitting up," Lance pointed out. "Especially not after…" he gestured vaguely at the armored assassin now lying in a heap on the ground. "Aren't we supposed to be protecting you from people like her?"

"You're no use to me bleeding out," Keith responded curtly.

Shiro looked at Lance, frowning meaningfully. They had best talk in private about what the bounty hunter had said—about what she had _known_.

Lance brought a hand over his bleeding arm and winced. "Fine."

With a nod, Keith walked out of the alley. When Shiro was sure he was out of earshot, he muttered to his partner, "He's going to ask what she meant about the bounty."

"How the quiznak did she know about it?" A beat. "How many other people do you think know?"

Those were the questions twisting in Shiro's own head ever since the woman had drawn her blaster."That doesn't matter now. We just need to get out of here and figure out how to answer Keith." They'd handle it. They always did. The two started to make their way toward the main market.

Since he had Lance alone for the moment, Shiro turned to him with a question he'd been sitting on. "Hey, what's up with you and Red?"

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, Moody. You were at his throat all day today. But when we first met him you wouldn't stop ogling."

Lance stared straight ahead, back stiffening. "That was before I knew he was the crown prince of the dictatorial regime that enslaved my planet and tore me from my family."

Shiro nodded. He'd figured as much.

"Good thing we'll be rid of him by the end of this."

Shiro didn't comment on the unconvincing nature of Lance's tone.

* * *

 **[Lance]**

When they got to the clock, Keith was already waiting for them, leaning against it with his arms crossed, foot tapping out an impatient rhythm.

Lance crept up behind him and asked, "Done shopping, _sir_?"

Keith turned to face the Paladins, unimpressed.

Undeterred by his failed attempt to startle Keith, Lance continued. "I never asked, what did you need from here that was so urgent?"

"Come on," Keith said, tossing up a key and catching it in his hand again. He led them to a hangar and toward a compact red ship.

Lance raised an appreciative eyebrow. "Not bad, Your Grumpiness. But shouldn't we be going for _unassuming_ here?"

Keith huffed out a breath, an almost laugh, before climbing into the cockpit.

"Let's put some distance between us and that assassin," said Shiro, climbing in after Keith and helping Lance up after him.

Lance sat on the floor of the ship's tiny cargo hold, one leg bent underneath him and the other stretched out. He was struggling to hold his bandage taut while applying the next dose of the healing gel that shady medic at the market had sold him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Keith's rough voice drew an instinctive scowl from Lance. He leveled Keith with a glare as he pointedly pulled on the bandage to tighten it around his arm. _What does it look like I'm doing_? "If you're here, who the quiznak's flying the ship?" he asked instead.

Keith walked over and sat down facing Lance. "Ever heard of autopilot, genius?" He pulled the tub of ointment toward himself and, with no further explanation, scooped some out with a finger. His eyes drifted up to Lance's face every so often as he applied the gel, but then dropped back down just as quickly.

Lance was taken aback long enough to let the silence stretch on as Keith took apart the bandage only to start retying it more securely.

"Ow," Lance exclaimed when Keith pulled too hard.

"Sorry…" Keith muttered, "And thanks."

"Two magic words in one breath? That's the most polite you've been since I met you. So, what're you thanking me for, Mullet?"

Keith's hands stilled at the nickname, but he didn't look up. "Well, you protected me. That other bounty hunter…"

"Yeah, what, uh, what was that about?" He feigned what he hoped was a convincing amount of befuddlement at the developments. Even so, he was fully prepared for Keith to grill him, demanding explanations about what that lady had been talking about. Lance had his response prepared too: he'd just claim never to have heard of it until being cornered in that alley, and—

"I should've expected something like this, to be honest," said Keith, interrupting Lance's thoughts. "I don't know who these people are that're after me, but putting out a bounty just... makes sense. It's what I would've done." He sighed. "So anyways, thanks for coming in clutch despite the surprise 'bounty' thing."

Oh. _Oh._ So Keith didn't…

"Yeah man, I should be upping my price," Lance responded, cockiness returning in full-force, "now that we're protecting you not just from some vague threat, but from basically every bounty hunter we come across."

Keith rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the bandage.

"What're you doing anyways, Highness? This ship is a long-distance cruiser—small but powerful. You're playing a long game, aren't you?"

"You know your ships," Keith deflected.

Lance decided to allow it for now because he was glad to overshare, especially when a handsome prince was explicitly asking.

"I always wanted to be a pilot. I even went to school for it." Lance watched Keith's brows quirk in interest. "The walls of my room back room were covered in posters of my favorite fighter ships. That was…a long time ago."

A silent moment stretched on as Keith considered Lance's revelation; then he reached behind him to pull out his knife from its sheath at his back.

"Oy!" Lance drew back instinctively. "I thought we were bonding or something, man. No need to—oh."

Keith was holding the knife in both palms, presenting it to Lance.

"Umm…what…"

"Just look carefully."

So Lance did. He stared until the knife's image was seared into his brain. Just when he was about to look away, he saw it. The purple glyph on the hilt was starting to glow and pulse. His eyes widened and he looked up at Keith for an explanation.

"After my mentor was killed, his knife was my only connection to him. He left it to me." Keith fondly ran the pad of his thumb across the glyph. "It took me a while to realize it only glowed when I held it. It was trying to tell me something. It was giving off this crazy energy that was guiding me. That's what I've been following."

Lance listened attentively. He recognized the glyph. He'd seen Kolivan carry a blade with a similar symbol, though that had been a full-on sword. This was…troubling. He wondered how the Galra prince came to have the same kind of weapon as the rebel group. Thoughts racing, he watched Keith's pale fingers explore the knife. It looked like an unconscious habit. He'd probably memorized every groove and plane by now. "So where's this voodoo been telling you to go?" he asked.

" _It's not voodoo_." He sighed. "Look, I don't know why I'm even telling you this. It's just this _feeling_ that I can't ignore, like I'm being pulled toward something."

"And the voices told you to buy a sleek new ride?"

"They're not _voices_ ," Keith started to counter, stopping when he saw Lance smirk. "Ugh, never mind. The energy led me out of Galra-controlled space, and I wanted to have an anonymous ship."

Lance raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

"Well, at least one that wouldn't be recognized as mine. That doesn't mean I had to pick something ugly."

Lance pointed a finger in Keith's face. "Aha! So you _are_ a bigshot." It was a prompt. Lance wasn't sure why getting Keith to admit he was the prince was so important to him, but he kept prodding.

Keith's eyes crossed as he looked at Lance's finger in his face, before turning away with a scowl. Lance saw the exact moment his expression closed off.

"Well, like I said," Keith continued, voice cold, "thanks for helping me out back on Rhybet. Your bandage is done," he added unnecessarily before getting to his feet and heading back to the cockpit.

Lance watched him go.

* * *

 **[Keith]**

Keith sat in the pilot's seat, alone in the cockpit. He unsheathed his knife to look at the glyph. It was decidedly Galra, but ancient—removed from the symbolism of his father's empire. Weeks of wondering what it signified, and the answer was almost in his grasp. The knife's hilt was warm, sending energy up the tendons of his arm. He was getting close.

There was a quick knock before the cockpit's door swished open. Keith turned around in his seat to find Shiro leaning in.

"I've been looking at the navigator, and it shows us headed toward a black hole." Shiro's voice implicitly demanded an explanation.

They blinked at each other for a moment, while Keith considered how much to reveal. Well, he'd have to tell them sooner or later. "I'll be right out," he said.

Shiro nodded skeptically before leaving.

Keith put his knife back, and followed him out. "Get ready," he addressed the Paladins. "We're almost there. I don't know what new enemies might be waiting for me there, so it'll be your time to shine."

"About that black hole," prompted Shiro.

"Yeah, we can't exactly protect you from that," said Lance. "I'm not big on being torn to shreds."

Keith's fingers subconsciously sought out the knife's hilt protruding from his belt. "I'm following the energy," he explained. "I don't know why it's pulling me this way; but this blade is all I have left of my mentor. I trusted him, and I trust this."

Shiro and Lance looked at each other. Something unspoken passed between them, before they looked at him, eyebrows raised but not protesting.

He turned back to work the controls, and Shiro and Lance walked up behind him just as the ship slowed to a complete stop.

The three of them stared ahead through the window at what could only be a secret base.

"This is unbelievable," said Keith, eyes on the dashboard. "The radar doesn't show anything except that black hole."

"The base is just out of range of the black hole's pull," noted Shiro.

"And it's balanced by the gravitational pull of that star," pointed Lance.

"It's brilliant," Keith finished. " _Who are these people?_ "

"Right. Time to see what's in store for you out there, Wonder Boy," said Lance.

The words pulled Keith back from his admiration of the base. "Okay. There's no way this ship is getting closer without getting sucked in. We'll have to make contact."

"And we'll need to be prepared for the possibility that whoever answers us will be hostile," said Shiro, hand going to rest on the gun at his belt.

"Copy that." Lance pulled his own blaster out with an excited glint in his eyes.

Shiro and Lance put on their helmets while Keith opened up a comm frequency.

A smooth robotic voice asked them to identify themselves and state their purpose.

"My name is Keith, and I'm a friend of Thace. His knife led me here. I seek answers." Simple and concise, he thought.

Tense silence stretched for an entire minute before the dashboard flashed, and a new voice—not a robot this time—spoke,

"We have sent you a map to our base's entrance. If you follow the path exactly, you will avoid the black hole's gravitational field."

Keith watched the dotted line pulsing on this dashboard.

"Great," Lance broke the silence. "So we're all gonna die."

A chuckle bubbled out of Keith, surprising him. It'd been so long since he'd heard the sound, it seemed almost foreign to him. He schooled his expression as he took hold of the controls.

Keith flew them to the entrance of the base in one piece, if not smoothly. He heard Lance and Shiro murmuring behind him as the three of them disembarked. His eyes adjusting to the darkness of space, Keith had every sense on high alert. Two masked figures ascended to the surface to escort them inside.

The moment the elevator hit ground, another handful of masks joined the two next to Keith, and together they restrained him. Keith struggled but one of them shackled his wrists.

"No one stumbles upon our base and lives to speak of it."

Lance and Shiro had started to step forward toward Keith, but stilled when the unseen, commanding voice spoke.

 _Great. Some help they'd been_. It was up to him to get out of this.

"You can't do this," Keith protested with practiced evenness, voice skillfully devoid of the desperation he felt. "I came here guided by Thace's knife. I need to know what it means. Does that name mean anything to you?"

In that moment, Keith was genuinely uncertain whether he'd be alive in the next.

Another mask entered the room and approached. "I'll take that knife." He held out his hand.

Keith raised the hand clutching the knife, but then his brow furrowed, fist tightening around the hilt instead of letting go. "No! I haven't come this far just to give up now. I need to know who I am."

"You know who you are," scoffed the mask. It was a cold and bitter sound. "You're the crown prince of Zarkon's empire."

Keith sighed in exasperation. He sensed the bounty hunters shift uncomfortably behind him, but he ignored them. "I need to know who I _really_ am. Why have I never fit in in my own home? Why did this knife respond to me? It's clearly Galra, but it's not of the Empire."

"You're certainly right about that," the mask huffed.

"Enough talk!" A new presence entered the room—the commanding voice from before—who could only be the leader. He unsheathed his own sword, and Keith gasped. It had the same symbol as Thace's knife.

"Wait." The first mask who'd approached Keith addressed the leader. "The boy wants answers, Kolivan."

"This _boy_ ," answered Kolivan, "is the Empire's prince and a huge pain in our side. We've been trying to kill him for years, Ulaz."

Oh, so these were his stalkers after all, Keith thought.

"He deserves a chance at the trials," protested Ulaz. "For Thace's memory."

" _Thace_ is exactly the reason we shouldn't take any chances. He trusted the prince, and look where that got him. Or have you forgotten so soon?"

Ulaz's fist clenched. Keith could tell that Thace was a sore subject for him even without seeing his face. A fresh pang of grief clawed at Keith's chest with the thought that Thace had not only looked out for him in life but might also save him now. He took a steadying breath before speaking,

"Thace was my mentor. He trusted me enough to ensure his blade would pass on to me. I don't understand yet what that signifies exactly, but I know it's important. He served the Empire but he wasn't like any of my father's other generals—he wasn't ruthless. When my father ordered him killed for treason, I tried to save him but…" Keith's voice was heavy when he continued. "It's my biggest regret. But Thace must've known his knife would guide me; he must've meant for me to find you."

Ulaz, seemingly more collected now, faced Kolivan. "I will never forget Thace; you know this. We owe his friend a chance."

Kolivan said nothing for a moment. Then he sheathed his blade. "Very well. It's the Galra code of honor, after all. Besides," he added, turning to leave, "the trials can have only one of two outcomes: knowledge or death." He spared Keith a glance. "And given the candidate, I'd place my bets on the latter."

The masks flanking Keith released him; the handcuffs disappeared. The last thing he heard as he was led away was Kolivan ordering Ulaz, "Ask the Paladins why they bought him to me alive."

* * *

 **[Lance]**

Lance paced, too lost in his own head to notice Shiro's pointed stares. Although even if he had, he probably couldn't have sat down.

"You'd better hope for the best for these trials," Kolivan had said as he'd left them in the holding cell. "Keith's fate will determine yours," he'd promised threateningly.

But then when Lance had asked what outcome to the trials would let him and Shiro live, Kolivan had walked off without answering. Their weapons had been taken, so if it came to it, he'd have to fight hand-to-hand. Against a secret organization of samurais. _Great_.

Lance also recognized that if the trials didn't kill Keith, _he'd_ kill _them_ for trying to double-cross him. But what bothered Lance the most was that even knowing all this, he couldn't bring himself to hope for the trials to bring death to Keith. So all in all, Lance was pretty strung out.

"Not to say I told you so, but…" Shiro broke the silence, bringing Lance back to their surroundings.

"Yeah, we're pretty quiznakked," he replied. "I'll say the risk was worth it, _if_ we don't get sliced open."

Hundreds of paces later, Lance lost track of the hours, no longer sure if it was the same day. Distant sounds of fighting—what Lance was sure were anguished grunts from Keith—made their way to the holding cell, punctuated by long stretches of anguished silence. Just as he was about to finally plop down next to Shiro, four masks stepped out of the shadows.

"Kolivan has sent for you."

Lance looked back over his shoulder at Shiro. His partner was getting to his feet, steel grey eyes blazing with determination, prosthetic hand clenching into a loose fist.

"Let's go," Shiro's voice was matter-of-fact.

Lance nodded and turned to follow the soldiers to discover his fate.

Kolivan was waiting for them unmasked. His regal face bore an unreadable expression. "Paladins," he began. "The prince— _Keith_ —has completed the trials."

"Alive?" Lance asked unnecessarily.

"Since your destinies became linked with his the moment you decided to work for us both," Kolivan continued, "I would like the two of you here to witness this moment." Without further explanation, he called for Keith.

The Galra prince stepped forward onto the balcony overlooking the room. He didn't spare the Paladins a single glance.

Lance hadn't quite been expecting Keith to wave to him, but he couldn't help the ripple of disappointment in his chest.

"We owe you knowledge, Keith," Kolivan declared, "now that you've awoken the blade."

Lance only had a second to wonder what that meant until he noticed Keith was clutching his knife; only it wasn't a knife anymore. It was a sword, not unlike the ones Kolivan and Ulaz had. Lance tuned back to Kolivan's speech.

"We are the Blade of Mamora, an organization dedicated to ending the tyranny of Zarkon's empire. Your mother, Valora, was one of us. She infiltrated your father's upper ranks, as have some of our other agents. But she gained his particular trust and had you."

A host of expressions warred across Keith's face as he listened. Kolivan paid no heed, and continued with his story. "The plan had been for her to raise you as a Blade, and then when you inherited power…"

"He would dismantle the Empire," Shiro finished.

Lance should've been worrying about his own fate. But all he could think about was Keith finding out he was brought into the world as a political tool, as part of a ploy.

"So then why'd you send assassins after me if I was your savior?" Keith finally broke his silence.

Kolivan's tone held no guilt. "After Valora died, we sent Thace to finish her job of watching over you. It was his decision to wait to reveal things to you until you were _ready_." His inflection gave away exactly what he thought of the idea.

"But then Thace was killed," said Keith.

"Indeed. I am sure he did not give us away. But his death showed me how risky it was to pin our hopes on you. You were causing us more trouble than good; and so I made the call to protect our interests."

The matter-of-fact way Kolivan related the tale sent a shiver up Lance's spine.

"But now," Kolivan went on. "Thace's blade is awake once more, by your hand. Your brave act of seeking us out has proven me wrong. We have no choice now but to welcome you with open arms into our ranks."

"You don't exactly look happy about it," Keith muttered more to himself than anyone else. His voice carried across the room nonetheless.

"It's a question of what's best for the rebellion, for the universe," Kolivan shrugged. "My feelings are irrelevant. Besides, there is no doubt that having the crown prince on our side—"

"I haven't said I'll join you," interrupted Keith. "I wanted answers, and I got some. This is a lot to take in. I'm going to need some time."

"Of course. In fact, that's where these two come in." Kolivan gestured to Lance and Shiro.

Lance gulped when Keith finally looked his way.

"Paladins," Kolivan addressed them. "You've solved our problem, if not in the way we expected. Your methods may have been risky, but you helped Keith find his way here, where he truly belongs."

Lance started to respond. "We basically just accompanied—"

Shiro elbowed him in the ribs.

Lance got the message, clearing his throat and falling silent.

"The reward promised to you had been for the prince's head. Seeing as you've brought us the rest of him as well, you won't be receiving that. However, we won't kill you and will in fact assist you in going wherever you need to next."

"Home," Lance and Shiro said together. They looked at each other and grinned.

"It's why we've been doing all this," Lance explained, without looking away from Shiro. "Why we escaped the labor camps and became bounty hunters, why we risked taking both these jobs. To go back home." Lance saw his own anticipations mirrored in Shiro's eyes. Lance looked away, raising his head to meet Keith's distant gaze. He found no sympathy there.

"Very well," said Kolivan. "We will send our newest recruit to accompany you."

"What?" Keith's voice rose for the first time since the trials. "They were plotting to kill me while making me think they were working for me. I'm not going to turn around and help them."

"Look Keith, I know you've been raised a prince. But the Blades of Mamora follow my orders. If you want to be a Blade, you need to get used to it."

"I didn't say I wanted to join you."

"You also didn't say you wouldn't. This trip will be a good chance to think it over." Keith started to protest again but Kolivan cut him off,

"Consider this mission your first order. Afterwards you are free to join us or not. Regardless of what you choose, you will always be a Blade. Just remember one thing: I cannot allow you to go back to your old life now that you know so much about us."

"So either I join you or live as a nomad. Doesn't sound like a fair choice to me."

"Just think it over," finished Kolivan, leaving the room.

Keith turned away too, and Shiro put his hand on Lance's shoulder. A touch that conveyed years of accruing sadness.

It was happening. They were finally going home. If Keith didn't disembowel them first, of course.

* * *

 **[Shiro]**

Circumstances found Shiro and Lance once again aboard Keith's new ship. But this time, tension was thick in the air, silence cutting into their skin.

Shiro cleared his throat. "What's the plan to make it past the sector checkpoints?"

A moment passed, and Shiro thought Keith wasn't going to talk even to respond, but then,

"We fly this ship to a garage owned by one of the Blade's contacts." Keith's voice was business-like. All hints of personality he'd revealed to them before lost. "There we transfer to a common Empire cargo ship. Kolivan gave me some codes to transmit to the guards that'll ensure we get through."

"I still can't believe it," whispered Lance. "We're going home."

Shiro regarded his partner with soft eyes. "I'm just as excited as you are, Lance; but…" He trailed off wondering how to warn Lance of what he probably already knew; that in all these years since they'd been snatched from their homes and sent off to labor camps, their families may have suffered similar, or worse, fates. He settled on saying, "Let's hope for the best and be prepared for the worst."

Lance met his gaze evenly and nodded.

* * *

 **[Shiro]**

Settled into a well-used cargo carrier and outfitted in ill-fitting uniforms, they traveled in silence again, making it through the Twalong system checkpoint without incident.

"We'll be there in a few hours," said Keith, finally breaking the silence.

Shiro took in a deep breath. "Hidyr and Kundyr," he uttered the names for the first time in forever. "The twin planets."

"With orbits that chase each other," Lance added with the ghost of a smile.

"Tell me about your homes," Keith requested, taking them by surprise.

Shiro shared a look with Lance, then obliged. He told Keith about twin planets that shared the same orbit but were always at opposite ends of it. On Kundyr, Shiro's people took their civilizations up into the thick clouds, building cities on thin air.

Lance interjected every so often with descriptions of Hidyr's surface, made up of water and ice, oceans and glaciers.

Keith took it all in without comment.

When the conversation lulled, Lance risked a glance at Keith. "So, Red, we told you all about us. Your turn. What happened in those trials?"

"Oh, you mean after I found out you two were backstabbing me?"

Lance cringed, and Shiro winced.

"Guess it's my own fault," continued Keith in that sarcastic tone, "for starting to trust a pair of hired goons."

"You know now why we did it," Shiro responded. "It doesn't make it right, but we had our reasons."

Keith scoffed. "Was that assassin on Rhybet also a ploy? To gain my trust?"

Before Shiro could say anything else, Lance got to his feet. "Not everything was fake!" he insisted, blue eyes blazing.

Keith stared, wide-eyed, at Lance's reaction until Lance broke eye contact.

"Sorry," Lance added, before stalking out.

Keith turned back to his controls, pensive. "I had to fight increasing numbers of Blades," he said after a moment.

"What?" Shiro's thoughts were frazzled, torn between the argument with Keith and delling on the possibilities of what they would find when they landed—and a potential plan of action for each possibility.

"I never answered Mo— _Lance's_ question," Keith elaborated.

"Right," about the trials," said Shiro.

Keith nodded. "In between fights, I was shown these emotionally manipulative visions. I guess how I reacted in those situations meant I passed. Demonstrated—honor—or something."

"You should be proud," Shiro insisted. "This is something you earned, by the merit of your own character. It wasn't handed to you like your princely title."

"I never felt like I belonged before," Keith agreed, before he looked at Shiro like he'd just remembered who he was talking to. He turned back to the dashboard. When he spoke again, it was with a cold finality. "We're almost there."

Shiro recognized a dismissal when he heard one. He nodded and left to find Lance.

They'd sat for just a few moments in the cargo hold together when Keith called out, "You guys better come see this."

There was an edge to Keith's voice that made Shiro run without knowing why, Lance following close on his heels.

They crowded around Keith to watch the front screen. Shiro stared, dread permeating his bones. A dead planet stared back.

"Kundyr," Keith confirmed, crushing any final hope Shiro nursed. "And this is Hidyr," he continued, changing the image. Another spherical corpse filled the screen.

"No." Lance's voice was deceptively calm. "You made a mistake. We're in the wrong place."

"Lance, these are the exact coordinates," Keith dealt one last blow. "I'm sorry."

Lance looked to Shiro, but for once—for the first time since they'd found themselves in each other's company—Shiro had no comfort to give his partner.

"The rumors we heard were true." Shiro figured talking about it would help him come to terms with it. "About the Galra stealing life forces from planets and destroying them."

"I believed every word of those rumors," Lance admitted. "These are the people who ripped us away from our families; they're capable of anything. But somehow I never expected…" He trailed off.

Keith jumped in. "I knew my father was seeking ways to acquire large quantities of quintessence, but I had no idea he was using inhabited planets." Disgust was plain in his voice, but the sentiment wasn't enough. Not when the once glorious twin planets lay before them as dark husks.

They disembarked on Hidyr, or what remained of it, and Keith bent to pick up a stone lying at his feet. "I know you probably don't care right now," he said to the both of them. "But I'm going to join the Blade of Mamora." He stood and closed his fingers around the rock. "This is what my father's empire stands for: destruction. I need to do what I can."

Shiro found he wasn't surprised.

Lance paused to look at Keith evenly, openly, before continuing ahead.

Shiro watched Lance walking ahead of him, his motions almost mechanical. Shiro looked to his side at Keith, his earlier aloofness now gone. Shiro seeked to fill the emptiness inside him with purpose—some reason to keep going.

Suddenly Lance dropped to his knees. Shiro and Keith rushed to his side, to find him clutching a toy—a Voltron action figure.

Lance looked up and around him, a flicker of hope back in his eyes. He didn't need to explain what this toy meant; his eyes conveyed it all. He got to his feet and rushed ahead toward a huge metal structure, left to stand watch over the barren landscape.

Shiro's eyes were on the metal structure. Close up, it was even more enormous. It could only be—"a dock for ships entering and leaving the planet."

"This is nowhere near where our house was," Lance picked up Shiro's train of thought. "If Ana's Voltron toy was here…. People must've evacuated." He met Shiro's gaze. _They would have to search the whole universe_.

Keith stepped forward and put a tentative hand on Lance's shoulder. A moment later, Shiro did the same.

It would take them a lifetime. At the very least.

 _A reason to keep going._


End file.
